Universal Heroes
by Valandar
Summary: It's a large universe. More than one dimension can contain, in fact. This is just one version of that universe.
1. Genesis

Time didn't really exist anymore, or perhaps it was yet. Neither did space, for that matter. There was nothing to die, nothing to destroy. Nobody existed to despair, or desire, or to delight. Nothing had a destiny yet, either. But there were those that dreamed.

They slumbered in a state as different from mortal sleep as that state was different from the alien awareness of a star. Seven beings rested in non-existence, for as soon as the next universe began, they would, as well. First the eldest would awake, his eyes opening as a cosmic singularity prepared to erupt, and then the rest as their offices were needed. But, for now, they dreamed.

The dream was unique, and only existed for them. They did not speak, or otherwise communicate, for pure concepts needed no such artifice. They drifted through subconscious consciousness, waiting as their brother regained his strength, the strength only possessed once every cosmic cycle.

A hundred trillion times, they pondered what the new universe would be like. If any species would repeat, as had before, or what the physical constants might be. Perhaps it would even be one of the rare ones with no sapient life, and certain of their number would remain asleep until the following universe. Or, perhaps, it would be that rarest occurance of all – a repeat, with only minimal factors different.

At last, the time came. The eldest opened his eyes for the first time, and nodded. The next eldest gathered to herself the death of nonexistance, as their deeply slumbering brother awakened. His hand reached out, if such words could apply, and he touched the infinitessimal singularity that comprised all existance.

And there was light.

This, as with every similar act before, was the first and greatest act of destruction in this new universe. An explosion of unimaginable fury, more powerful than the very physical constants it spawned. All that existed hyper-expanded along three spatial dimensions, one temporal dimension, and one dimension of probability. As the picoseconds passed, the nature of all that would happened and the facts thereof became known to the eldest, as a massive book chained itself to his wrist.

And Dream of the Endless now slept, even as his brothers and sisters had, until the first being to dream emerged. His greatest, most important, and longest lasting role was done for now, until the current universe ended. Still, there would be lesser duties, so he treasured what rest he could get.

xxxx

Arzaz, High God of the Third World, glared across the shattered landscape. Though a separate dimensional brane than what would be the Universe, the barrier was thin. The vast energies of the Big Bang had been taken as a sign by the Nameless One, and he had unleashed his forces for a final, cataclysmic battle. Gog, the coward, had fled for other realms, but he was one of the weakest of the Gods of the Third World.

At his side, the lupine God known as Sirius sighed. "This is unfortunate," he intoned. "The Nameless One has unleashed the Anti-Life."

With a snarl, Azaz gestured at the landscape. "The fool! Once unleashed, nothing can stop it! All we can hope to do is channel it!" He regained control over himself, and closed hs eyes. "We may be lost, but perhaps not all shall be. Sirius... you must not fight."

"What?" protested his companion. "But I am fated to destroy Sh'vaa!"

"Which is why you must not fight. As long as some fragment of our essences remain, in both you and he, then life may return to Godworld someday. " He gestured to the right. "Imbed yourself deep within those mountains, old friend. Deep enough, the Anti-Life might not reach you."

With a heavy heart, Sirius did as he was bid, not knowing that his opposite did the same on the other side of Godworld. Arzaz, however, began to channel his vast power. No sooner had Sirius reached his shelter, than the Anti-Life reached the ancient deity. And, moments later, the Third World was no more, merely floating rubble and large planetoids.

Much of the energies of the Third World faded into the ether. Some remained, and yet still more was consumed to power Arzaz's last act, to shield the rest of reality from the malevolent force that had destroyed Godworld. A small amount, barely strong enough to cause a star to go nova, escaped, however. This power of the Old Gods erupted into the multiverse, and passed through dimensional barrier after dimensional barrier in a meandering, direct path.

And deep within the two largest fragments of Godworld, both Sirius and Sh'vaa slumbered.

xxxx

The gathering was not truly ocurring, not in a physical sense. The beings present were there in spirit, however, assuming the form of what would one day be the primary sapient life form on the world or worlds their warmth gave life to. Shape, however, mattered little to them, for almost all were spherical masses of nuclear fusion. This was the Parliament of Stars, and as their bodies waited, their spirits dreamed.

It is little known, even among the mightiest of mages, that stars had souls. Not all of them, however, only those from systems that would one day support life. There were stars whose souls were primitive, where life would never grow beyond simple plants or animals, but they were not present. Only those whose native life would achieve sapience were lofty enough to join the Parliament of Stars.

Mighty red Rao gazed upon the countless forms that life would one day take, even as he knew that the form his children would take seemed to be among the most common. He, as well, knew a great secret – the life from his world would not be born there. There were a few others that knew that secret, but by mutual agreement only informed their host.

Among the gathered stars, One new face could be seen. She was young and small, having only ignited among the interstellar gasses a few scane million years ago. Her name was Sol, and though she knew it not, she was the mother of the race that would be later adopted by many others. Her neighbor, Ma'aleca'andra, stood by her, as he existed a mere thirty light-years away. They wandered the halls, amazed at what they saw.

"I see the two of you are enjoying the Parliament," arose a voice behind them. "New visitors are becoming more and more common, it seems."

Turning, both saw an unusual being. He resembled Sol's form, but shorter and blue. His voice was whispery and faint, but held within it what could only be called wisdom, and an almost unimaginable amount of power. "I am Maltus, and I greet you. I sense greatness from you both, and that our children shall be allies and even, perhaps, friends."

The green, exoskeleted star spoke first. "I am Ma'aleca'andra, and this is Sol. This is our first Parliament, honored Maltus. Please, call me Ma'al." Sol, who had stepped slightly behind her neighbor, nodded.

"Ah, then you have arrived at a momentous time." The star gestured at a small number of clustered beings. "We are discussing the light, and what it shall represent."

"The light?" asked Sol.

"Indeed. Not the light of our bodies, but the light of our souls. Such is a powerful energy, that our children may one day wield. Indeed, my own children have begun to learn its use, and take their first hesitant steps into a wider universe."

Ma'al goggled. "Your children already exist? Then they shall truly be ancient before our own emerge, if they are to be friends!"

Maltus sighed. "Yes, this is so. Mine are among the firstborn, even as I was one of the first members of the Parliament. Now, come, the debate is to begin soon."

Sol watched as the concepts flew, eschewing language to express a point far more precisely than any mortal tongue could. She wandered around the edge of the gathered, more than a little unnerved at the knowing glances directed her way. She settled down next to a tall star, whose form was nearly identical to her own.

"This light," she asked him. "They equate it to emotion? Oh, forgive me. I am Sol."

Rao smiled. "I know. Part of your destiny is known to me, and for it you shall have anything you ask of me. And yes, though I do believe 'states of mind' better suits it."

She stomped a foot. "Okay, why does everyone seem to know what's in store for me and my children? This is getting tiresome rapidly."

He sighed. "I cannot say. Simply know that your children, and those you gather to yourself as if they were your children, will perform wonders not only of great power and wisdom, but also compassion and justice. One day you will understand, when many here have either dwindled into nothing, or exploded in a blaze of glory. Now, as to the Light..."

It had been decided that the light would be assigned states of mind that the majority of the Stars' children would know, and equate to a narrow band of light visible to most of them. The center, the anchor, would be green – which would be the will, the guiding hand behind all action. The further from green, the more dynamic and volotile they would be, and that each of these would have both a dark and a light aspect. The presence of all would be life, and the absence of all would be death. And, finally, the first being to achieve the absolute state of those states of mind would become the avatar for that light.

As Sol and Ma'al began to withdraw back into their physical forms, one more visitor approached them. This one was not a star, and they could sense he was as vastly more powerful than they, as they were more powerful than their children would be. "Before you go," came his unearthly voice, "allow me to formally accept you into the Parliament. I am Dream of the Endless, and I am your host."

Sol tilted her head. "Why is your form both all and nothing?" she asked.

Dream gestured, a formless gesture that meant that it was so. "My form is that which is expected to be seen as are those of my siblings. Where your form here is that of your future children, mine is that of how I am percieved. As such, no true form do I have that is mine alone. Now, farewell, Sol, rest, and dream of what your children may one day accomplish."

xxxx

"And thus shall I, Krona, prove that sufficient gathered energies from the borders of the very cosmos can be used to behold the very cause of creation itself!"

His fellow Maltusian scientists glanced at each other. "But... we KNOW the cause of creation. We have for thousands of years, since we first discovered Quantum Mechanics. A cosmic singularity underwent hyper-expansion," protested one.

"But WHY?" demanded Krona. "That is what I shall discover!"

Appa Ali Apsa shook his head. "That is a fruitless path of inquiry," said the young Maltusian. "That knowledge will contribute nothing, unlike the research into the energy of Will. That has already shown its potential in our increased lifespans, and ability to manipulate the world around us," he added, as he gestured and ligted a small lectern on a disk of green energy. "I propose we allow you to continue your research, but that none other help you. This is your madness, and should remain so."

"Bah," muttered Krona, as his gathered peers filed out of the room. He prepared his collectors, and sent the drones out at translight speeds to the edge of the universe, more than ten billion light-years distant.

xxxx

As the last of the Parliament of Stars left, Maltus turned his head, coonfused. "Rao," he said, "Will you attend me a moment?"

"Certainly. What do you need?"

"It seems that I shall not be long with the Parliament," confessed Maltus. "The time I foresaw aeons ago has finally come to pass. My children shall live on, though. I ask that you take my place among the council."

Rao nodded. "As you wish, old friend."

"Do not worry," said the slowly fading star, "your children shall be brought to you shortly. And fare thee well."

Silence fell on that region of the Parliament, and Maltus was no more. "Farewell, Ancient One. May your children dwell among the stars forever."

xxxx

The planet shook, and buildings crumbled. Blue skinned beings, male and female, sighed, and rose off the surface of the planet in auras of emerald green. One, however, raced to a certain collapsed building.

Chunks of stone and plasteel were casually tossed aside as Appa Ali Apsa sought to ascertain if Krona lived or not. Eventually, he found the Maltusian, bleeding dark blue onto the trembling soil. "By all that is, what have you done?" demanded the young one.

Krona gibbered slightly, then his eyes fixed on Appa. "A hand!" he declared. "I saw... a hand! He cackled, and roared with insane laughter.

"And was it this hand which has destroyed our world?" demanded the younger Maltusian. "Even now, our star collapses. In only a few measures of time, it shall explode on itself, and Maltus shall be no more. It is fortunate we can travel among the stars on our own power, lest you be guilty of genocide, as well."

Krona's laughter died. "... No. The edge of our universe... it is antimatter. But not true antimatter. It is... it is as dark matter, but negative. Some was brought back by my probles, by accident.

"And it is alive, and aware. And it hates us all."

xxxx

As they travelled among the stars, the Maltusians began to ponder where to go. Some simply sought the closest habitable system, where they would rebuild what they had. Others, however, having heard from Appa Ali Apsa what Krona's experiments had wrought, sought to prepare for this malevolent, negative entity. They continued to travel, until they found a burned out planetoid whose sun had long since collapsed into a white dwarf. This, they named Oa, or 'Fortress', and began their preparations.

Those that settled early found their mastery of the Green energies of will fading. Grasping desparately, they tried to alter themselves to maintain their hold on it, but instead found the very changes they had undergone had further removed them from the power of the Green energy of Will. Their skins turned pink and their hair fell out, and they soon lost even the memory of having wielded the Green Energy of Will. Deciding to prevent what happened to Maltus from happening again by dominating the universe, they renamed themselves. Now, they were the Controllers.

The Oans, likewise sought to protect, but they chose to do so as guardians, not conquerers, and took that as their name. The Guardians began to postulate ideas on how to extend their influence, and settled upon the idea of self-aware androids, empowered by the Green Light of Will, to be their hands in the universe. They would be later known as the Manhunters.

And the star of Maltus, falling victim to the negative matter from outside the universe, exploded in a supernova seen even beyond their own galaxy.

And in the Parliament of Stars, heads were bowed in honor of one of the first, now no longer with them.

xxxx

"This rock will serve," snickered Ghast. "We can use this one to form a foothold for the rest of this universe."

Abnegazar sighed. "Our master will know we are here," he pointed out. "He will grow greedy, and take this world from us, as he has the ones before."

Rath snarled. "Let him try! The magic is strong here, and we can kick him all the way back to the sixth Hell!"

A horned fist sent Rath sprawling. "Fool! As mighty as we are here, he shall be mightier! Did you not consider that?"

"Meh," said Ghast. "Until then, we can play!" And he danced, stepping through a crude puddle of muck, splattering its contents across the landscape and slowing the development of life on this third planet from its star for just a bit longer.

xxxx

Over the billions of years since the destruction of Godworld, gravity had begun its work. Fragment after fragment gathered around the two prisons of the sleeping Old Gods Sirius and Sh'Vaa, until two planets, each less than half the size of the original world, floated in timeless space. The nature of these worlds mirrored that of their prisoners, and Sirius's world grew green and lush, with gentle light from the Source Wall, and joy abounded. This world eventually spawned life, who were born knowing at least a tiny fraction of their history, and thus called themselves the New Gods of the Fourth World.

Around Sh'vaa's prison, however, a world of tyranny and hate emerged. Ruled by Darkseid, Apokalipse was dotted with hellish firepits, and inhabited by the downtrodden Hunger Dogs and the cruel Parademons. Deeming himself the God of Evil Conquest, this greatly pleased Darkseid.

Eventually, they encountered each other, and for milions of years they warred against each other. Evenly matched in power, it became a stalemate that Darkseid could not abide. He delved into forbidden lore, lost writings predating the Fourth World, until he finally found what he sought. Word reached him of the cause of the death of the Third World, and he devoted himself to finding it. He would possess the formula to conquer everything – he would possess the Anti-Life Equation.

xxxx

Millions of years have passed, and more races have emerged onto, and faded from, the cosmic stage. More stars have joined the Parliament, and more have faded, lost forever as they nova, or diminished into senility as whote dwarfs or even black holes. And outside reality, a being finally found what it sought.

"Ahh, here are my long-lost slaves," muttered what could only barely be called a voice. The walls of reality rupture, and a talon reached in to the mortal realm.

"No! He's finally here!" shrieked one of the hundreds of minor demons frolicking on the lifeless world. They ran in panic, but the rupture spread as the talon grabbed them all, one by one, and swallowed them through a mouth on the palm. They were spat back out in front of their master, with Abnegazar, Rath, and Ghast in the very front.

"L-lord Trigon, sire," began Abnegazar.

"Silence."

The monstrously huge demon king stared through the gate at the world that now was free of true demons. A bit of the organic goop present drew his eye. An idea grew in his mind.

"For now, this world is lifeless. It shall not remain so. I wish to wait until it is at its height, and then consume it all." He gestured, and most of the servant demons were obliterated. Only the first three remained. "You shall watch this portal, and wait until a species emerges that can handle the energies of darkness."

Trigon gestured again, and a blinding agony ripped through the three, until three objects ripped from their chest. A jar, a bell, and a wheel floated forth, and placed thmselves at random spots on the rocky planet, then the gate closed to all but the mystic senses.

"When those three talismans are brought together, and the incantation I now write recited, then shall you be unleashed once more upon that world. You are to find me... a bride." He grinned, horrific teeth glistening in the red light of the fires behind the Demons Three. "And then, you shall be free forever."

xxxx

Countless millions of years passed. Dinosaurs rose and fell on the Earth, while in space yet more races rose and fell. The Manhunters proved unreliable to the Oans, who bequeathed their power to a corps of champions known as the Green Lanterns. And, unseen by all, the wave of energy caused by the destruction of the Third World washed over the primitive Earth, causing subtle yet profound changes.

Meanwhile, on the fourth world of the star Ma'aleca'andra, a green race was born. They were innately quite powerful, with the ability to tap the very fabric of space and time for energy, and with absolute control of their molecules. Unfortunately, this brought them to the attention of the Controllers.

"Such beings would be great as shock troopers," said one. "However, they would be difficult to control, with their telepathy."

"Perhaps we could combine them with some other race?" suggested another. "We could tailor individual populations for specific environments, and build in weaknesses to allow us to control them."

"Excellent idea. Perhaps their neighbors here would suffice. They are primitive, barely at the state of fashioning tools. They do not even have cities yet." He gestured to the Galactic West. "They are a form of plains ape. Some of their shamans have demonstrated limited mystical ability, and there are at least three phenotypes. This gives us plenty of material to work with."

xxxx

Vandar Adg was feeling slightly grumpy. His tribe, the Blood Tribe,which future men would consider Cro Magnons, had just been repulsed as they tried to enter the lands of the Tall Ones, who would be called Denisovans by the future. They could travel north, and face the Heavy Ones, the Neanderthals, or they could travel south, and attempt to take over the others of his own kind, the Bear Tribe.

However, his plots and plans were sent from his head when a screaming, flaming star fell from the heavens. It stopped in mid-air, and grabbed most of his tribe in some sort of strange light, and raced off to the east. Only a handful remained, which thankfully included his tribe's shaman. "Adnash! Use your magics, warn others of the people! A sky demon has arrived, and we must drive him off!"

xxxx

A sensor light blinked on the Controller ship as they began to gather up the sapients of the primeval Earth. "Hm... it appears those Shamans are attempting to drive us off. Their magics, however, are not very strong, and are being collected in the Repository. Oddly, the repository sensors report it is being converted into the Light of Will, as well as the inert matter intended."

"How much can the Repository contain?" asked the commander of the ship.

"At current rate? Perhaps another three cycles of the planet's rotation before it will require ejection of collected mass. Unfortunately, this would also eject the Light of Will forming within it."

The commander scoffed. "We are not Guardians, or their pathetic Corps. We have no need of the Light of Will. Eject it when you must."

xxxx

The Blood Tribe and the Bear Tribe were mortal enemies, but even they knew this was a matter of survival that dwarfed their emnity. Klarn, chief of the Bear Tribe, glared across the clearing at Vandar. "What you have said is true. Scarcely a tenth of the local tribes remain, and word from other shamans say that the other regions have suffered even worse. Entire regions will have no more People in them if this Sky Demon is not stopped."

A grunt was his initial reply, until Vandar was prodded by Adnash. "What about the shamans' attempts at driving it off?"

Klarn's shaman spoke. "The energies we hurl at the demon would lay waste to entire herds of mammoths, yet they have as little effect as a pebble on a pond. Indeed, it even seems to glow brighter as we do so."

A third chieftain, Hollan of the Swamp Tribe, spoke. "There are so few left now... many tribes will have to merge to have enough wives for all the warriors, or enough husbands for all the women."

Vandar spat. "The Blood Tribe will never merge with their lessers. It would be better if we all die!"

Klar stepped forward, dangerously close to Vandar. "Then you are fools. This is not just our survival, but that of our children, and their children after!"

"You will move, Bear Cub, or I shall make you move!" declared Vandar.

"A ritual fight, then?" asked the now eager Klar. "I accept! On the morrow, we shall fight, and the winner leads both the Blood and the Bear Tribes!"

"On the morrow we shall fight," corrected Vandar, "and when I win we shall slaughter the Bear Tribe, down to the last mewling infant!"

xxxx

"Sir, it is time to eject the Repository Mass."

The commandersighed. "I do believe we have sufficient samples of the species to utilize. Eject the repository mass, and then melt the ice caps. That should flood this world, and wipe out the remnants."

"Acknowledged, sir."

xxxx

Vandar and Klar each held a long, knapped knifeblade, the handle wrapped in sinew for a better grip. They faced each other, the remnants of their tribes forming a circle to witness their ultimate fate.

Hollan stood between them. He looked from one to the other, then nodded. The two men lunged.

Screaming from on high, a glowing green star erupted from the clouds, slamming into the ground between them before either one could react. Such was the force of its impact that almost every member of the three gathered tribes was wiped out. Only Vandar, Klarn, and Hollan survived, ironically closest to the point of impact, but each was changed.

Vandar was now immortal. He would wander the world, growing in skill and knowledge and hate. One day, far in the future, he would be known as Vandal Savage.

Klarn, likewise, was immortal, but in a different manner. When he died, by whatever means, he would be nearly immediately reborn, though often different than he was before. He would maintain his emnity with Vandal Savage as the Immortal Man.

And Hollan... Hollan was different. In the conflagration of green fire, he grasped with his own latent magical connection to the earth, and wrenched. His essence shattered and recombined, but was no longer strictly mortal. From his shattered soul would come the first elemental of the Green, a title that would sporadically carry on for century after century.

And the meteor itself, the repository of solidified magic and the Green Light of Will? It achieved sapience in that instant, and declared a prophesy. "Three more times shall I flash – once to bring death, once to bring light, and once to bring power!" it cried out, then fell silent for years unnumbered.

xxxx

"We have the samples, sir," declared the science officer. "Most are condensed into data, but can be extracted as needed for the project."

"Excellent. Melt the poles, and let us be on our way," ordered the commander.

And so it was done. Over the course of the next several decades, as the waters of the world rose higher and higher, mankind retreated and dwindled until only the smallest territory remained for them to live on. Barely more than thirty thousand individuals survived at the end of a century, but they were among the hardiest and fittest – and most importantly, the smartest. Many were of mixed ancestry, bearing Cro Magnon, Denisovan, and Neanderthal genes, though many more were pureblooded. It would take dozens of millenia, but they would rise once more, greater than before.

And in the Parliament of Stars, Sol and Ma'al consoled each other, as sister and brother, at what the Controllers had done to their peoples.

xxxx

"This planet is known as Rao IV in our archives," began the scientist. "It is a heavy gravity world, whose combined athmospheric cloud layers and solar radiance encompasses frequencies from the sub infra-red through orange, and from teal through trans-ultraviolet. This gives a clear and present possibility for a means of controlling our first test subjects."

"Explain," said the eldest member of the Council.

"We have been unable to replicate the purely psionic means by which the Ma'al control their forms, but have discovered a way to activate part of it by means of a solar powered catalyst enabling the Sol originated organisms to tap into a field more primitive races would equate to superstring energy, or zero point energy – specifically, the potential energy of the barrier between timelines."

"And how does Rao VI provide a control method?" asked another Council member.

The scientist pointed to a graph of the frequencies of light that reached the surface of the planet. "As you can see, there is a sharp dropoff of emitted light received in this part of the spectrum. If we limit their ability to proccess sunlight to this frequency, their power will be little more than enough to withstand the increased gravity, both in strength and reflex speed."

The graph changed, to that of the typical environment of a Class M planet around a typical yellow-orange star. "Under other environments, as you see here, their power will increase exponentially, to be potentially even greater than the Ma'al natives. With a bit of culturally induced fear of leaving their homeworld, they will remain on Rao VI, and only leave when it is time to utilize their power for our purposes."

The eldest leaned forward. "And how do we reign them in once unleashed?"

"I propose two methods, both easily induced into the genome at the current stage. The first, intended for this world, is to induce a vulnerability to certain frequencies of gamma radiation. These frequencies would destructively interfere with their ability to store and utilize solar energis, rendering them weak and helpless for some time.

"The second is to, instead, render them vulnerable to dampening reactions from the more stable elements, specifically lead. This variant would be stored on the world Daxxam III, which has similar environmental conditions and a similar stellar spectrum."

The Council turned to each other, and murmured for a while, then faced the scientist. "So be it. And you may also continue similar experiments with other races."

Another Council member spoke up."What will you do with the failed specimens?"

The spectral diagram was replaced with a three-dimensional map of a complex star system. "The Vega system has many inhabitable worlds. They can simply be dumped there. A religious fictition can keep them under control."

The Elder nodded. "Then resume your work. And whatever you do – do not fail us!"


	2. History

It was April of 1938, and the days of the classic Chicago gangster were over – and other forms of organized crime were beginning to move in.

Several months prior, Lee Travis had learned that his cousin, well, distant cousin, Britt Reid had begun a criminal career as the gang leader named 'The Green Hornet'. It was supposed to be a secret, but his chauffeur Wing had overheard his cousin and HIS chaffeur, Kato, discussing their activities in Japanese. Unaware that Wing spoke that language, as well, they freely admitted to each other their activities against their fellow crime lords.

This angered Travis, who decided he had to avenge his family name. Taking the name of the Crimson Avenger, he and Wing planned on stopping the crook, and clearing their name – and tonight was the night.

"Ready, Wing?" asked Travis. He was wearing an outfit he assumed would hide his identity, and draw any attention away from his face. It was a bright red trenchcoat, fedora, and domino mask, and he had finished a special gas, thanks to the resources of his newspaper. This gas would be a combination of smokescreen, and would also partially sedate his enemies, to slow them down. Both Wing and he had doses of stimulants that would prevent them from succumbing to it, however.

"Sure am, boss," said the shorter man. His real name was something he only kept to himself, though he was known to everyone as Wing Shen, which he said meant "Glory of Heaven". Where Travis was all in red, Wing was dressed entirely in slate blue – and his mask covered his entire face. His lack of accent, and a fully covered face, would keep people from identifying the Asian chauffer.

Unlike his cousin, Travis had learned a great deal of the Chinese martial arts from Wing, and from the man Wing only ever referred to as 'Sifu', ever since the both of them were in their early teens. Travis was also taller, and much more physically fit than Reid. If it came to a physical confrontation, he was confident Wing could handle Kato, and he himself could easily take out the so-called Hornet. The anaesthetic gas only added to the imbalance.

As they turned to leave, all of the lights in the house suddenly shut off. "You go nowhere yet, Lee Travis," rang the creepiest voice the man had ever heard. "Not until you hear the truth! And who knows truth better... than The Shadow!"

Wing unerringly grabbed his boss's sleeve. In Cantonese, he muttered, "Heard of him, boss. He's one of the angels, supposedly, but can do things nobody can explain."

"Indeed," came the voice in the same language, this time behind them. "Though tonight I am here to prevent a crime, not to end a criminal."

Travis swallowed the fear he felt, and straightened up in the darkness. "Well, then, go ahead. What do you have to tell us?"

"You shall not hunt the Green Hornet this night – or any other! His so-called criminal activities are a sham, to use the confusion to bring down the greater criminals!" A tall, hook-nosed form dressed entirely in black somehow manifested in the darkness before them. "And soon, he shall be needed – as shall you, and many other cousins you have, by blood or otherwise, from an incident more than a hundred and forty years ago."

This stopped Travis cold, and he removed his mask and hat with his free hand. Wing, feeling the motion through his sleeve, correctly interpreted it, and likewise removed his mask. With this action, the lights somehow returned, and the three men stared at each other for a few long moments.

Wing was the first to speak. "Sirs, shall we retire to the parlor? It would perhaps be best for us to discuss this in some comfort, at least.

XXXX

"This... this is incredible," said Travis. "All of these legends... we're all descended from people who were near that meteor?"

"Indeed. Your cousin, in fact, through two different lines. I, myself, am, as well. The coming conflict in Europe is almost guaranteed to be one that affects the entire world, as the sino-Japanese conflict will be drawn into it. And while countless soldiers and officers will be needed, so will icons. Heroes and symbols, to maintain morale during the dark days to come." The Shadow drank from his glass – only water, a strange choice for a gentleman of this day and age.

"But how do you know all of this?" demanded Travis.

"The stranger told me," simply said the Shadow.

Wing shook his head. "With all due respect, sir, how could you trust the word of a stranger?"

A fourth voice rang through the halls of Travis' home. "He said THE Stranger, not A Stranger."

In the doorway stood a tall man, in blue-gray opera attire. His hat covered his eyes, which seemed to glow white from under the brim. "Some call me... the Phantom Stranger."

XXXX

The train was out of control, there was no doubt about it. Alan Scott was a passenger on the Express from Metropolis to Gotham, and some maniac had decided to rob the thing. A stray bullet had ricocheted into the engineer's compartment, where he lay bleeding. Scott, though a mechanical engineer, struggled valiantly to both save the engineer's life, and get the vehicle back under control. If he didn't, a large number of passengers would die.

Somehow, his eye was drawn to the old-fashioned lantern on the floor near the engineer. It didn't really belong on a new, modern E2 Streamliner, but he couldn't afford the distraction. He thought he had stopped the engineer's bleeding, however, so he turned his attention out the window to see what was coming up. This, of course, turned out to be a bad idea.

Of course, the bridge ahead was out, washed out in the heavy rains of the past week.

He slumped to the floor of the cab, and shuffled over to grab the emergency brake. There was no way the massive train would stop in time to save all of his fellow passengers, but he had to try. There was no way in hell he was going to give up, and even fear for his life was nothing compared to his need to rescue these passengers.

His hand lightly brished the lantern as he thought this, and a blinding flare of green filled his vision. In his mind, he heard, "Once, I brought death. Now, I bring life. Soon – I bring power!"

The glow filled the cab, and he felt the train leave the tracks. Stunned, he kept his hand on the lantern, and watched as the engineer not only stopped bleeding, the pooled blood actually withdrew back into his body – and the nasty wound from a deformed .45 bullet sealed itself.

He almost didn't notice when the train, powered down and brake applied, set down on the tracks across the bridge from where they had started – he was too busy watching the engineer's eyes flutter open. "D-did I just..." wheezed the formerly injured man.

"Um... almost die? Yep. Some fool tried to rob the train, you were shot, and we were all about to go off the cliff into the Gotham Narrows." Alan glanced around. "Looks like we're on the Gotham side, now, though."

"I... I saw white. Lots of white. Then... green?" He shook his head. "Names Jordan, Henry Jordan." The engineer extended his hand.

"Alan Scott."

"Is... is there a reason my old lantern's glowing? And why it's now all green and not just the center glass?"

"I have no idea."

XXXX

"I don't care if you make it to the weight limit, you're still too small to face Ted Grant in the ring, Al!"

"Joe, you said yourself I'm one of the best you ever trained! What's this Grant guy got that I ain't got?"

Joe Morgan, retired boxing trainer, looked down at his last pupil. Al Pratt was short, barely five foot one, but stockier than any two men – and all of it muscle. "What's he got? An extra foot and a half of reach, that's what! You might even be able to knock him out with one punch, but you ain't never gonna get that punch!"

Al sighed. "There's gotta be some way. I'm too heavy for the lighter classes, but you say I can't make it in the heavier ones."

Joe walked over to the edge of the ring, and sat down. Al followed. "Son, you did me more of a solid than I ever thought when you helped me back on my feet four years ago. But we both thought you'd stay a light welterweight through your training, not turn into a pint-sized Hercules. You're one of the best fighters I've ever seen, but there's really no place for you in the pros."

The conversation was cut short by the popping sound of gunfire, and the screeshing tinntinabulation of shattering glass. Blood blossomed on Morgan's chest, and his eyes widened as he slumped over onto Pratt's chest.

"J-Joe? JOE!" Al knew it was too late, just looking at his friend – the man had died almost instantly when the bullet reached his heart. Glancing out the now shattered window, at the bank across the street, he saw two men struggling with a lone guard. One of them was reloading his revolver, and the short man knew it had to have been him that just killed his friend. Anger filled his heart, and he charged out through the shattered glass.

The guard would later describe the fight as 'watching an angry bull move like a tornado'. Fists collided with bone, sending the robbers flying, with bone shattering impacts on every punch. It only took seconds before the would-be robbers were laying in groaning heaps at the guard's feet.

The short man looked up at the guard. "Keep an eye on them. They didn't just rob this place, they're murderers, too." With that, he walked across the street, climbed back in through the window, and sat with the body of his friend until the ambulance arrived to take him away.

XXXX

It is now November, 1940. The home of Lee Travis, the Crimson Avenger, was host to a collection of some of the least likely individuals in a very long time.

First among them was his own cousin, Britt Reid, and his chauffer, Kato. The two had reconciled when Travis learned the truth, and the Hornet soon after abandoned his scheme of 'pretending to be a criminal'. They would often work together, and Kato and Wing would trade friendly barbs about whether Chinese or Japanese styles were superior.

Travis, Wing, Reid, and Kato were all in costume, because of the collection of other men and women present. In all, there numbered more than twenty individuals, in costumes and outlandish garb designed to either provide stealth, or draw attention. Among these notables were the Shadow, Wildcat, Liberty Belle, the speedster known as Johnny Quick, Hourman, and many others.

"So...why we here, eh? Gonna make a Union for us longjohn types?" asked the Wildcat.

"Close, but not quite," said the Shadow. "We are gathered for a greater purpose. And there remain a few to arrive."

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted the conversation, as the newest guest arrived. Clad in a yellow and blue suit, with full face mask and detatchable cape, the Atom strode in, as if he were seven feet tall instead of merely five foot one. And Wildcat took one look at him, and his mouth spread in a grin. "Hey, Atty, glad ya made it!"

His face wasnt visible, but Al Pratt grinned anyway. "You too, kitty cat. Boy, they must be scraping the bottom of the barrel, eh?"

"'Course they are, otherwise it woulda gone right over ya!"

Johnny quick leaned over to the next closest person, who turned out to be Liberty Belle. "Either those two are best friends, or worst enemies."

From his other side, Wing casually noted, "They have the same teacher. They move the same, and both seemed to lift the left shoulder a bit when they saw each other."

From the other end of the gathered heroes, Doctor Mid-Nite spoke up. "Is he the last one?"

The Phantom shook his head. "There is one more due to arrive. Please, try not to gawk."

Green. That was the first thing anyone saw, when the final hero arrived. He wore a red shirt, and green pants, with a green cloak – and was covered in an aura of green. The man passed soundlessly through the ceiling into the room like a ghost, then became fully solid once more.

"The Green Lantern," gasped Mister Terrific. "Long way from Gotham, eh?"

The Lantern smiled from under his domino mask. "Not so far as you might think. Now, why the need for this meeting, eh?"

Knowing his cue, Travis stepped forward. "I am the Crimson Avenger, and the man in grey over there is my partner, Wing. And after that debacle last month with the ultra-Humanite rampaging through all our cities, I thought we might want to do something to be better prepared for something like that if it happens again."

"Like what?" asked the Sandman.

"Like a society, where we could contact each other if we ned help, or if one of our foes is heading to someone else's territory. Or if there's a situation that none of us can handle on our own.

"Effectively... a Justice Society."

XXXX

World War II was hell, for those who fought it and for those trapped in the line of fire. Atrocities unheard of were committed, and the true depts of Man's evil came to light with the discovery of the Death Camps. And, through it all, men and women in bright costumes fought as symbols, and as heroes.

Many of the Justice Society did not survive the war. Most were mere mortals, simply exceptionally skilled or with a single, useful gimmick. It was from these that most of the fatalities came. Red Torpedo, Amazing Man, Captain Triumph, and the Americommando were the most notable of those who died.

After the war, crime was down, and the forces of the Axis powers diminished dramatically, so many of the heroes retired. Senator McCarthy's anti-communist witch hunts persuaded most of the ret it was time to hang up the cowl. Only the Green Lantern, Wildcat, Atom, and Doctor Mid-Nite kept up their self-apponted tasks, the last remaining members of the Justice Society.

In Gotham City, Jonathon Wayne built an economic empire. Wayne Industries went from being a small car parts company to one of the biggest suppliers of military vehicles to the US Military, and his three sons grew up in the lap of luxury. The youngest was Thomas Wayne, born in 1955.

Korea soon took center stage in the American worldview, then scarecely a decade and a half later, Vietnam. And it was there that Jonathon Wayne's world nearly fell apart before his very eyes. Both of his older sons were drafted, and both answered the call. His youngest, Thomas, was granted a deferment due to being in college when his number was drawn. And both older sons died heroes, leaving the responsibility for the massive multinational corporation on the shoulders of the woefully unprepared future doctor.

Lucius Fox was one of the biggest risks Jonathon Wayne ever took. He was a young African American man, one of the first to graduate from the formerly all-white Gotham University, and bore an accounting degree so fresh the ink was almost still wet. But he had an eye that could not be denied, and under the elder Wayne's tutelage and with the friendship of the younger, rapidly rose until he was, for all intents and purposes, the number three man at the company. As the Black Rights movement grew, he was frequently held up by the more militant side as an 'Uncle Tom', but also by the more peaceful side as 'an example of what we can achieve'.

By the time Jonathon Wayne died of lung cancer, and Thomas Wayne took the reins, he could be said to be actually running Wayne Industries. And, in 1974, Thomas Wayne married Martha Kennedy, with young Bruce arriving a year and a half later.

XXXX

The lab crumbled around Jor-El, as his greatest fears came to be.

B.R.A.N.I.A.C. Was, in fact, behind the errant readings he had been detecting – and it appeared to be because of deliberate alterations in its programming. Some external, possibly extraterrestrial, agency had decided the Kryptonians were not worth their efforts anymore, and the very core of the planet was being altered to be radioactive, emitting frequencies of radiation that sickened entire cities.

And, like all radioactive substances, there was such a thing as critical mass – and this substance in the core was rapidly reaching that state. Already smaller amounts had begun to go critical closer to the crust, causing earthquakes that shattered the once great civilization of Krypton. Soon, enough of the core would reach critical mass for a cataclysmic explosion, and nothing could save his beloved homeworld.

The cultural paranoia about space travel and exploration was purely psychological, he knew. And for that reason neither he nor his wife could escape. However... his son could.

He and his wife both regularly encoded their mental patterns and memories into data crystals, and it was these he placed in the computer that would guide his son's escape vessel. Perhaps long-lost Argo might survive, but of all this planet, only young Kal-el would.

There was a planet, nearly twelve hundred light years distant, that their stealth probes had indicated had a technologically primitive race that looked dramatically like their own. Among them, Kal-El could grow up in peace. In addition, they were of a moral bent similar to Kryptonians, meaning he could have a happy life.

Seeing his wife, he drew her close. Nothing needed to be said as the small probe launched, and Krypton died.

XXXX

Sol found herself in a small antechamber to the Parliament of Stars. There, with her, was Rao. Ma'al had vanished millenia ago, leaving the red giant as her closest friend. Now, however, he looked concerned.

"My friend... Maltus once came to me with similar news – and a similar request."

She was confused. "What sort of news and request?"

"I am dying. The last of my children even now leaves my solar system, and the world that once held life shall soon be no more. When that happenes... I will rapidly fade, until I am no more." He sighed. "And they chose your world for him to escape to."

One hand raised to her mouth. "No, Rao! Please, no!"

"Yes, my friend. But, please, do not grieve. I have come to ask you... to take my place among the council." He sighed. "And, if possible, to take care of my last remaining son."

She could only nod, before she embraced him and cried, as she had not cried since the loss of Ma'al.

XXXX

The island nation of Themiscrya was in an uproar. One of their own goddesses had appeared before them, to inform them that some aspects of "Man's World" were now more egalitarian than even their own.

Diana, daughter of Queen Hippolyta, stepped forth. "Divine One, may I ask what is meant by that? How, exactly, are they more egalitarian?"

Athena simply asked, "What if one of their sailors crashed on your shores? What would you do?"

Phillipus, bodyguard to the Queen, spoke up. "His life would be forfeit, as would any man who set foot here."

"And there it is. If one of your own washed ashore on most of the nations of Earth, she would be given medical treatment, and possibly even assistance with living expenses until she could stand on her own feet." Athena sighed. "It is not something I admit readily, but the outside world has surpassed my own Amazons in terms of equality."

"Then what shall we do, Divine One?" asked the Queen. "Change comes slow to us, I fear, for thousands of years of fear and distrust will not fade swiftly."

"Send an emissary. An ambassador, if you will. She will learn if this is so, and help the gradual proccess of bringing Themiscrya back to the modern world." She turned, and looked directly at Diana. "And she shall be the only one of you untouched by the abuse of ancient men.

"Train her. Teach her. Make of her the best of you. And when she is ready – call on me. She shall have gifts at that time."

Athena faded, and the throne room of the Amazons fell silent.


	3. Gathering

"Houston, hate to quote one of the Great Ones, but we have a problem."

It was February 1, 2003. The Space Shuttle Columbia was preparing to re-enter Earth's atmosphere, unaware that a piece of foam insulation had broken off the orbiter on launch. The vehicle was now entering Earth's atmosphere, and the heat was rising rapidly, though only a little more than usual.

"What is your problem, Columbia?" asked the ground control.

"Looks like we got parts falling of the left wing, and... " Static filled the transmission, then, "... what the hell?"

"What is happening, Columbia? Telemetry is giving us some unbelievable data," insisted ground control.

"We're... we're slowing down. And cooling rapidly – we're under Mach 10, and the exterior temperature is dropping... Two thousand Celsius... Eighteen hundred... Sixteen hundred... Fourteen forty... We're under Mach 8, Houston, over Utah, altitude dropping at steady rate, currently 210,000 feet instead of 223,000 feet."

"That matches the telemetry, but that's impossible! Can you see anything from the forward windows?"

A moment of silence, then, "Negative, Houston. Too much heat distortion still. Down to Mach 6, surface temperature one thousand Cee, and altitude of 180,000 feet. Preparing to cross over into Arizona, probably going to skip the roll reversal."

The world was watching, and listening. Amateur photographers and video fans were filming, and many saw what the shuttle crew did not – the tiny dot of blue and red on the underside of the nose. People began to debate what it was, as the time line of the descent began to stretch somewhat longer than usual.

"Houston, we're down to Mach One, surface temperature of four-fifty Cee, and an altitude of eighty thousand feet. We're still over Arizona, but barely, and would recommend all air traffic along our projected flight path be diverted. Speed is holding steady, but altitude still dropping. Estimated landing point appears to be... near Amarillo, at thirty-five point four North, one-oh-one point three five West."

At the speed Challenger was traveling, it took less than half an hour for it to become visible to the hastily assembled ground crew, but it was coming in at a far steeper angle than expected. The emergency crews, rushed in from Amarillo and all nearby counties and municipalities, rushed to be prepared for when the orbiter touched down. But when it was within a few miles of the projected landing point... it suddenly began to slow down.

"Houston, we're belly down, and now under three hundred kph. Surface temperature is only about a hundred and eighty cee, and altitude seven thousand feet and dropping gradually. Can anyone on the ground give us a clue what they're seeing?"

Houston would have answered, but they were staring with awe at what they saw on the feed from the landing site. Telescopic lenses, intended to track the orbiter, instead began focusing on the figure underneath the shuttle. It was a little over six feet tall – and humanoid.

"Houston, anything? We're about to touch... down? Houston, our airspeed is at zero, Zee Eee Arr Oh. But we're still at thirty nine hundred feet, not even three hundred feet above the deck! What the hell?"

Cameras flashed, Phones flipped open and text messages hastily sent. The orbiter slowly lowered itself to the ground, seemingly supported by the hands of a man.

He was perhaps six foot three, and massively built. Not quite bodybuilder proportions, but definitely big. He wore a suit that was primarily dark blue, with red accents, and a red flowing cape behind him. On his chest was a large red S on a yellow background. His face was exposed, showing a sharp, square jaw, bright blue eyes, and wavy black hair.

The orbiter stopped at about forty feet off the ground, and seemed to be waiting for something. One of the techs at Houston jolted himself out of his reverie, and said, "Err, Columbia, might wanna lower the landing gear."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Just... just do it."

XXXX

The brief, hasty interview played out across the country. A local reporter, one Cat Grant, had managed to snare it before the man in red and blue had flown – flown! Away.

"Well, ma'am, I had decided to shadow the flight as it re-entered, but when I saw the shedding of material, I had to intervene. I knew it wasn't normal. That wing was also a lot hotter than the rest of the ship."

"And who, exactly, are you?" she had asked him.

His feet began to leave the Earth, with no glow or aura. "A friend," he simply said, then he rose higher, and in a burst of unimaginable speed, was gone. Despite the vast acceleration, there was no sonic boom, and for a moment, it was like he simply was never there.

After fifteen seconds of awestruck staring, Miss Grant composed herself. "That was the mysterious superhuman man who apparently saved the Shuttle Columbia, today, from a horrible fate. I repeat, NASA has confirmed that the left wing heat shields had shattered at some unknown point either before or during orbit, and well before re-entry, which could have caused an accident of cataclysmic proportions. Back to you, Ted."

XXXX

Alan Scott was on the telephone. "Hey, it's been good to talk to you, Henry. Here's hoping that grandson of yours, Hal, stays safe in that new job of his."

As he wrapped up the conversation, and hung up the phone, he sighed. "You know, I have a door you could use." He turned, and glanced at the window.

"It would destroy the mystique to take the stairs or elevator," insisted the figure. It was mostly a black silhouette, with pointed, bat-like ears. A single detail was visible within the silhouette – a yellow stylized bat. "If one of your neighbors saw me..."

The former Green Lantern barked a short laugh. "Yeah, I can see that. Putting the mysterious Batman in a mundane situation and all.. So, why are you here. You're usually not social with the mask on."

"The Columbia. Could it have been one of your old allies? Or... enemies?"

"You mean Baron Blitzkrieg? He's about the only flying brick from back then who maybe, MAYBE could have done it. I'm not sure he could, though. Definitely wouldn't, it being an American craft. Heck, I'm not sure I could have done it. Do you know how much force that took?"

The Bat hopped in the window. "At the estimated moment of interception, the Columbia was traveling at Mach twenty-one point nine. The orbiter weighs sixty-eight tons unloaded, depending on the mission equipment this could be as high as ninety tons on re-entry. This gives an inertial mass of a minimum of fifty-five thousand metric tons. The individual..."

"Superman. The press is calling him Superman," clarified Alan.

"Hrm. The individual managed to intercept and match speeds, then apply retro-force sufficient to reduce that to less than Mach ten in roughly forty seconds, without significant g-force stress to the shuttle or occupants, which is a sign of telekinetic-based superhuman strength, like Blitzkrieg and... more tellingly due to that name... Ubermensch."

"But not only couldn't Ubermensch fly, there's no way he WOULD do that. And he was nowhere near that powerful," protested Alan.

The Batman inclined his head. "True. But this... Superman... could possibly be the end result of experiments similar to those that created the two Nazis." He started pacing the floor. "No matter his origin, there are three overall scenarios I must prepare for."

"And they are?"

"Scenario One, the preferred scenario: He is exactly what he seems to be. The voice on the interview tape has verbal clues that indicate a Midwestern United States origin, a Nazi sponsored experiment would have blond hair and not black, and he gave off hints of embarrassment when Miss Grant interviewed him. He might be an honestly good man, somehow gifted with vast superhuman power.

"Scenario Two, the most likely scenario. The individual wants to be the type of person in Scenario One, but is a normal man, otherwise gifted with these powers. Eventually he will be corrupted by them, and contingencies will have to be planned for.

"Scenario Three, which I hope is not the case. The individual is a front. He deliberately rescues the shuttle as an attempt to build goodwill, and perhaps performs a few more highly public acts, then reveals himself when he's firmly in the public's good graces, either slowly or immediately. This is a worst case scenario, as not only will he be powerful, but he will also have public opinion on his side."

Alan Scott shook his head. "Well, at least you're willing to even consider Scenario One. That's an improvement over the last year and a half."

The Bat glowered. "Paranoia keeps me alive. I don't have telekinesis based superhuman strength, or a magic green ring, to protect me. And the streets of Gotham are deadly at night."

XXXX

Diana, princess of Themyscria, flew with reckless abandon.

Though presented as gifts of items, such as the Sandals of Hermes and the Belt of Ares, the truth was the gods had granted her with powers innate. Only her lasso and bracers were what they were claimed to be, and that was the bonds of Truth, and the unbreakable Aegis, divested of Medusa's head and reforged into her own bracers.

And while she enjoyed her new-found power, it was flight she enjoyed most.

Now, imagine her surprise when, breaking through the clouds, her keen vision spotted a human figure, a man no less, simply floating above them. His hands were behind his back and his eyes closed.

Seeing the man was asleep, or at least napping, she raced up, and as he groggily tried to react, had him wrapped up in her lasso with the speed of Hermes.

The man blinked, and stopped struggling, when his eyes fully opened and he saw her. "Erm... hello?" he said.

Fortunately, Athena had gifted her with the knowledge of several of the modern world's languages, and this was apparently English. "Who are you, that you float among the clouds so?" she demanded.

"Umm... well, I don't want to say my name. But the newspapers have been calling me Superman. But you can call me... Cl... Claaaar... AGH! Sorry, but no, I have to protect my parents and I can't tell you my name." The man glanced down at his attire – some form of tightly woven cloth in the form of blue-gray pants, and a shirt made from a pattern of red and yellow overlapping stripes in both directions. "I'm not exactly in uniform right now..."

Diana was impressed. While no one could outright lie under the lasso's influence, it took a strong will to refuse to answer. "And how is it you can ride the skies, as I do?" she demanded.

He shrugged as best as he was able in his bonds. "I honestly don't know. Look, can we discuss this without the bondage? I'm from Kansas, and this kinda thing usually doesn't happen no matter how many dates you go on."

This flustered her, but she kept her grip on the lasso. "This is for my protection, and possibly yours," she admitted. "I have been sent by my mother to see Man's World, and judge if it is ready for Themyscria's return. And you will help me do that by answering my questions."

And ask she did. Question after question was asked, on everything from politics to science to society in general. But when it came to history, she found his answers reluctant, and almost ashamed of his race. Then, he came to recent history.

"I was... away, when this happened, but two grand, magnificent buildings were destroyed about a year and a half ago, by some very evil men. I didn't even know about it, or maybe I could have done something, but I hear that other, incredibly brave men and women rushed in, and, at the cost of many of their own lives, rescued a huge number of those trapped within." His eyes grew distant. "I heard that the Green Lantern tried to help, but could only hold up the buildings for a very short time. Other mystery men tried to help, but most of them were too old. They say that Hawkman, the Shadow, and a few others died saving people, as well.

"September the eleventh, two thousand and one. All because of a madman's religious intolerance and hate, and his evil. I wish... I wish I could have been there. But by the time I... returned... it was over, even the cleanup, and the search and rescue."

She paused, seeing a tear drip from the man's eye, and feeling through the lasso that this emotion was honest. Steeling herself, she whipped her end, sending a mental command, and the lasso untangled from around him. "I am Diana," she said, "And I apologize for accosting you."

He grinned slightly. "Nice to meet you, Diana. And... hold on a second..." He spun in mid air, faster than even she could perceive fully, but she saw him somehow changing his clothes at that speed. Before she could process what she had scene, he was now dressed in a blue bodysuit with red boots and a red cape, with what the Latin alphabet would call an 'S' on his chest. "I'm Superman."

XXXX

It had been a long several weeks. As Clark Kent, he had gotten a job with the Planet News Conglomerate by getting the scoop on the Amazon Princess's arrival to the US, and her visit to the UN building in New York. As Superman, he had BEEN a scoop, for one Lois Lane, also of the Planet News Conglomerate.

Choosing to live in Metropolis, near Planet News Headquarters, he had been called upon to act in his heroic guise a few times already, Most were simple, just catching a car that had fallen off a freeway overpass during a high speed chase, or stopping an organized crime gun smuggling ring. But that visit by the industrialist, Lex Luthor, somehow rubbed him the wrong way. The bald man had shark-like eyes – dead, cold, even cruel. And he looked at Clark like he was a potentially valuable tool.

His superhuman hearing caught the sound of his apartment window opening, so he blurred, making certain his civilian clothes were completely on. "Whoever you are, I know you're there!" he called out.

"Clark Kent, of Smallville, Kansas. New reporter for the print division of Planet News. Football letterman of Smallville High in your Sophomore and Junior years before suddenly leaving the team your Senior year. Journalism major at Metropolis University, with a minor in engineering and numerous classes in various sciences. And occasionally you wear a red and blue suit, fight crime, and stop a space shuttle orbiter from exploding on re-entry," came the gravelly voiced reply.

"I-I don't know what..."

"Spent four years, from 1998 until late 2002, incommunicado. Simply vanished, though no Missing Persons report was ever found, and your parents would claim you were 'out seeing the world'. Careful analysis of satellite records show anomalous heat buildup near eighty-eight North and 42 degrees West, in the Arctic Ocean, with commensurate heat downgrade in the immediately surrounding areas to cancel out albedo and heat transference. This anomaly was blamed on satellite malfunction, but the dates of the malfunction exactly match the day after you vanished, and the day before you returned."

'"Listen," began Clark, "you don't..."

"Adopted by Martha and Johnathan Kent, USMC Retired, on July Fourteenth, 1975. You were apparently two years old. No child of your appearance or age went missing or was put up for adoption in the entire state of Kansas, and your hand and foot prints match no known missing child or child up for adoption."

"Just because I was..."

"Ten days prior to the adoption, a large meteor strike occurred in central Kansas, with a force equal to half a ton of TNT. The meteor left behind no physical presence besides its crater, though the point of impact is clear – only thirty miles from your parents' farm, between Smallville and Topeka. And the impact point is not of a normal irregular petrolith, but of some sort of regular, symmetrical object – though this was not obvious due to the angle of impact."

"But I..." Clark's voice began to falter, as the truth of his origins, something he had only found out a few years back, came to the forefront of his mind.

"Clark Kent. Superman. And whatever your original name might be. I am the Batman." The figure in the window stepped forward. "I hope you are exactly what you appear to be," he continued. "But if you are not? I will find a way to stop you."

Clark straightened, and stared at the man – and saw, and recognized, the face beneath, one he had recently seen in the Society column of the paper. "I promise you this, if I go bad, I'll LET you stop me. Because if I go bad, I'd have to answer to my parents. Does that help any... Bruce?"

The Bat stiffened. "It does. I trust we have a mutual understanding, then?"

"We do."

Turning, Batman stepped to the window, and dove out. Clark kept an eye on his movements for at least a mile or so, then sighed, and got ready for bed.

XXXX

Once again, Barry Allen both cursed and thanked God for the television show "CSI". On the one hand, it directly led to a greater respect for his chosen profession, by both the public and the rest of the Force, but on the other it imposed unreasonable expectations from those same people. It had only been on the air for about three or four years, but people now wanted DNA evidence at every trial, and the cops expected him to be able to return the results of tests within the hour, or maybe a day, even if those tests took weeks.

"Come on, slowpoke, you can rush the tests for me, can't you?" would be a common phrase in his office. Then there was the yelling when he didn't get the tests done fast enough. "You are the slowest tech alive, I swear!" shouted one officer.

He was on-site for a homicide investigation – the victim had been found at the base of the main antenna for one of Central City's local radio stations, with multiple blood splatters visible, and others not so visible. He had a bag with the most common chemicals used, such as luminol, and began digging for that very concoction when he felt the hairs on his arms stand on end.

Glancing up, he saw a storm building. "Hit the deck! Lightning incoming!" he yelled, even as he flattened himself. Unfortunately, as the lightning struck, his hand brushed the radio antenna, and that was the last thing he knew in that moment.

Unknown to Barry Allen, he possessed a quirk of genetics left over from some unknown source – the metagene. It was not natural, and may have even been magical in nature, but under extreme duress, it would manifest, usually as a means of surviving the incoming danger, or in a manner related to the incoming danger. His eyes saw a yellow flash of lighting, and the metagene, not quite sapient, reacted. It strove to change itself, needing speed to avoid the incoming danger, but unable on its own to provide Allen with enough speed to move before the lightning hit.

And then something noticed him.

Flowing in the realms between worlds, the Speed Force was a concept without form. Those who lived and died for speed gave it strength, across countless worlds, and it had slowly grown somewhat aware. And it decided it wanted a champion.

Barry Allen would be that champion.

XXXX

Doctor Saul Erdel rested in his laboratory, though he did miss his homeland.

Born just a year after the end of the second World War, he was lucky enough to have grown up in the western half of Germany, near Munich, and had gone to many prestigious universities. His theories about the Higgs Boson, however, were laughed at, and he lost his position at the Technical University of Munich. Losing a job at such a prestigious university was career-shattering, and the only place that would hire him was here, the State University of Maringá, in Brazil. It wasn't... horrible, but it was a state university, with all the funding issues that implied.

Now, however, word had it that CERN was going to construct a Large Hadron Collider, with the intent of proving the existence of the Higgs Boson. While it would verify some of his theories, it would do little otherwise. He HAD to activate his device, and do so soon.

In theory, it was simple. The Higgs Boson could be manipulated by certain applications of exotic matter and energy, and then utilized to create a field of intense, localized gravity that could actually fold space and time. It would be one of the greatest achievements of mankind – if his theories were correct. If not? Well, oblivion was preferable to the depression he had been under since his release from TUM.

Now, it was time. The scanners, cameras, and sensors were all active, proccessing literally hundreds of gigabytes of data per second. The generator was warmed up and ready to provide the initial electric 'jolt' to begin matters, and all that was left was the single flipping of a switch.

He glanced at the ring that dominated the center of the room, and flipped the switch.

At first, nothing happened. At least, nothing visible to the naked eye. To his sensors, however, a gravimetric pulse was literally vibrating in the center of the ring. This pulse dropped off at a rate that could not be explained by the inverse square ratio, just as he had planned.

As the event horizon of a true Einstein-Rosen bridge began to form, alarms began to sound. He had planned to only fold to a point in the next room, where further sensors were set up, but the other end of the bridge suddenly moved. Somehow, too much exotic energy was interacting with the Higgs array, changing the position of the endpoint of the fold in space – and time! He had no idea where it would end up, most likely somewhere inimicable to human life!

He rushed to perform the emergency deactivation steps, cursing himself for making them take so long. But as he reached for the final switch, a bot of electricity sparked between him and it, tossing him painfully across the room. His heart began to stutter in its inexorable beating.

To his horror, something came out of the Einstein-Rosen bridge. It was somewhat humanoid, but also not, with pointed parts and angles humans never had. And... it was green. Pain wracked him as his heart faltered once more.

It grew deathly quiet as the emergency shutdown finally kicked in, except for the sound of the creature's footsteps. It walked up to him, and crouched.

 _Be Calm_ , he heard in his mind. But how...

 _Telepathy_ , his mind, but not his mind, told him. _Your device has brought me here, even as the last of my brethren chose nonexistence. From you, I can learn about this world, if you will allow me._

He nodded, as his strength began to fade, then everything whirled around in his mind. Memories of childhood, adulthood, and now blended together, with the last image being that of the story about that Superman in Metropolis.

 _I cannot save you,_ continued the voice, _for travel through your device has left me weak. But you may rest knowing that your theories were correct. Unfortunately, this region of space is filled with erratic dark energy eddies, a sort of storm of them so to speak, and will remain so for at least two hundred years._

 _But as you have saved me by bringing me here, I shall help to protect your people._ The green... thing's form shimmered, taking on the mixed-ethnicity look of many inhabitants of Brazil. _And your last act has helped to defend your entire world._

"I... can... live... with... thaaat..." were the last words of Doctor Saul Erdel.

XXXX

Hal Jordan was confused, but unafraid. The test aircraft he had been piloting, a prototye of a spaceplane intended to replace the aging Space Shuttle for emergency or for low-payload trips, had broken up the first time he reached Mach One, but a green cocoon of energy had ensnared the cockpit, and him, before it completely disintegrated.

"Hm. I thought the Green Lantern had retired years ago?" he wondered. His grandfather had regaled him for years with stories about the old hero, and this definitely looked like what his ring would create.

Soon, he found himself approaching what looked like a crash site, but not of any craft he had ever seen. It was too large, for one, and no plane or ship he knew of was that particular shade of... purple?

The cockpit was st down rather roughly on the sands of the New Mexico desert, and he popped the canopy, then dropped to the desert floor. Carefully, he approached what would be the cockpit of the ship, if it's plan was similar to any airplane he ever flew, or had ever seen, for that matter. Sure enough, he was right, as he saw what could only be windows on that end. A large rupture in the hull allowed him entrance.

A green flicker flashed on and off, calling to him like a beacon. He followed it around a large chunk of wreckage, and found himself on a small command deck, its roof partially caved in, and the... pilot? Pinned to his seat.

The pilot was... odd. He wasdefinitely not human, though mostly humanoid, and wore a green and black uniform of some sort. On his right hand, hanging limply, was a ring much like what the old Green Lantern supposedly had worn. And his eyes... his eyes drifted up and down Hal, and the pilot sighed in relief.

"You are here. Good. I do not have much time left, nor does my ring have much charge left." Even as part of his mind refused to admit he was talking to an alien, a tiny part noticed that the sounds that reached his ears did not quite match what the alien was doing with his mouth. The alien raised his hand, and the ring seemed to phase through his finger, and onto his palm. "Here – take the ring!"

Stunned, he did as he was told, and without thinking, put it on the middle finger of his right hand. "Is there..."

"No, there is nothing you can do. Now, man of Earth, hold out your other hand, and concentrate on summoning the lantern."

Raising his left hand, he so concentrated, and to his shock a stylized lantern made of green metal appeared. He almost dropped it in shock.

"Quickly now! Place your ring hand into the opening on the front, and repeat after me!

"In brightest day, in blckest night

"No evil shall escape my sight

"Let those who worship evil's might

"Beware my power, Green Lantern's light"

Again, Hal Jordan did so, and was stunned by the brilliance of the light. "Okay, now what? And are you sure I can't help somehow?"

"No. I am Abin Sur, Green Lantern of Sector 2814, and I now meet my end. The ring has a full record of what happened. And tell Kilowog I said you have potential! Ring, execute standard training override recall, authority Gamma Lamda two eight one four Prime!"

The green glow returned, this time launching Hal upwards at immense speed. He raced into the athmosphere faster than he ever thought possible, and even though he found himself in space, he had no trouble breathing. Then... he accelerated. It was almost like those science fiction shows when a starship was entering warp, and in a way he probably was. Soon, he stopped rather abruptly, and he didn't even have time to wonder why his insides weren't all on one side of his interior from the gee-forces before he saw the world below him.

Despite the lack of air in space, he clearly heard the voice behind him. "Got the signal a new recruit was being emergency recalled here."

He willed himelf to turn around, though he had nothing for maneuvering, and found he was. There, a seven foot tall, musclebound... alien, with an almost bulldog like head stood in front of him. "Umm... recruit?"

The alien nodded. "For the Green Lantern Corps. Don't worry, you ain't the first to not know nuthin' 'bout the Corps when you got here. I'm Kilowogg, your new drill instructor," he said. The alien grinned evilly, exposing almost fleshy teeth. "And you are about to be in a world of hurt from my training, poozer!"


	4. End of the Beginning

Time passed. One by one, more heroes and villains walked onto the world stage. Some, sadly, passed as well. But a new rhythm built itself into the lives of the citizens of Earth. Street crime and more dastardly but mundane plots? That was the job of the police, mostly. But super-villains? Terrorists? Aliens? Those dangers belonged to the heroes.

True, some heroes dealt with street crime, too, whether because of a corrupt police department or as maintaining their edge, but one person could not deal with an entire city's worth of crime... except, perhaps, Superman or the Flash. But, for the most pert, they defended the innocent from threats too great for ordinary men and women to face.

Two such men, who once had worn masks and colorful outfits for the sake of their country, sat in a small apartment, drinking beers and reminiscing. "I tell ya, Alan, it ain't like it used ta be. Us, even you, we were 'Mystery Men'. We'd dive inta the fray, beat up a few crooks, an' maybe hafta deal with one super-villain every few months. An' only you, th' Hawk, and a handful of others had any actual powers – the rest of us hadda get by with training an' maybe a special gadget or two.

"Now, though? Seems like if ya ain't got powers, y' just can't keep up. I was talkin' to that new guy replacin' ya, and he was tellin' me about six different super-powered baddies he put away just this month!" He crushed the can in his beefy hand, and tossed it over his shoulder, almost making it into the trash can located there.

The former Green Lantern shook his head. "Ted, it's a totally different world. And he's not exactly replacing me – we may have similar powers, but from what I hear, he's part of some cosmic police force." He opened his own beer. "Ted, when you were Wildcat and we were part of the Justice Society, it was almost a game. That is, until the War started. Per Degaton, Wotan, even that crazy Felix Faust character, they all were... well, almost polite about what they did. Civilians weren't targeted, as long as the heroes stood. Hell, even Master Man and the Ubermensch mostly followed the Geneva Convention – and Master Man was horrified when he found out about the death camps."

Ted nodded, his thinning white hair bobbing with the action. "Yeah, an' now these new kids gotta deal with psychos like the Joker, or that Brainy guy that tried to steal Metropolis. A whole frakkin' city, d'ya believe it?"

"You mean Braniac. And yes, I believe it." Alan Scott sighed. "It's a good thing that this generation has stepped up to the challenge – and they don't have a World War to distract them from it."

"Haw, look at you. 'This Generation', like you think you're as old as me," chuffed Ted.

"I'm not! I'm two years older, remember?"

Grant glared at him. "Couldn't tell by lookin', now, couldja? That durn ring been keepin' ya young – you c'd pass fer sixty, not ninety-five."

"You don't look a day over eighty, yourself, Ted," retorted Alan.

The old boxer shrugged. "I eat good, keep what exercise I can. An' I keep both th' past and th' future in my head every day."

Silence wafted around the room, as both started considering both the past and the future. Then the stillness was shattered by the sound of another beer can being crumpled and tossed, this one actually landing in the trash can. "One more beer, then I gotta go, ol' buddy," said Ted.

"Right." Alan looked at his own, which was only his second to Ted's eighth. "Then let's salute those who deserve it. Britt... Lee... Carter... Al. All the rest of those who've gone ahead to get things ready for us."

Ted nodded. "And to Superman, Batman, Captain Marvel, Wonder Woman, and all th' rest who took up where we left off."

They clinked their beer cans together. Almost in unison, they said, "To Justice."

XXXXX

Author's Notes:

This is not the end, just the end of the beginning. From here on out, there will be no direct timeline through the chapters. The titles will have a date they start, perhaps, usually set in the early to late 2000's, maybe even later. I'll basically write stories that fit in this particular version of the DC Universe as I see it – maybe an origin story here, a story that explains things there. They WILL be published in this story, and will take place in this world. But they might not be very regular, or of consistent length.

DC Comics and all of its properties belong to Time Warner / DC Comics. I do not intent anything but homage here, and maybe even dream of a return to the bright heroes of the old Silver age with a bit of the realism of the modern age. Just because morality, honor, and respect seem old fashioned to the comic companies, doesn't mean the heroes shouldn't show those qualities. After all, that's WHY they're heroes.


	5. December 18, 2005: Sacrifice

The wall was huge, but the names were small. There really weren't many, but there was room for the future. And staring up at it, Clark Kent felt his chest constrict... then carved in a new name with his heat vision.

XXXX

SIX WEEKS EARLIER:

XXXX

The Justice League was relatively new, and the building they were meeting in was donated by Wayne Enterprises, and furnished by Queen Industries. Seven titans sat around the table in the central meeting room, all quiet and trying to deal with what had happened

Superman looked the worst, if only because his face was clearly visible. He was distraught, confused, and most certainly upset. He stared off into nothing, trying to get a grip on what had happened. Why had the unknown man done what he had done?

By contrast Wonder Woman wore a hardened expression. She knew that, whoever he was, he had performed a deed of extreme self-sacrifice. His loss was tragic, but he proved himself to have the heart of a hero, and a warrior.

The Flash was oddly still. As a police CSI agent, he knew what it was like to wear a black ribbon on his badge. But now? Now a hero had fallen, right in front of his own eyes. One of those fighting the good fight proved he had the mettle for it, but now was no more.

Hal Jordan, the Green Lantern, paced. He was angry, furious even, at himself. He knew that if he had been a tad bit faster, pushed himself just that much more, the guy would still be alive. But, never once did he blame the man, only ever himself.

The Martian Manhunter seemed oddly contemplative. Inside, he withdrew into his own memories of the death of Ma'alacandraa – the alien ships stripping his world of its people, then simply eradicating what was left. The long years of suffering, as the survivors slowly starved. And then the death of Doctor Saul Erdel, who had brought him to Earth.

The newest member was Black Canary. At first, the other members had no idea why the Batman had nominated her for membership, but her courage and creativity with her ultrasonic 'Canary Cry' earned her the spot. Now, she sat slumped in her chair, thoughts scattered between the incident earlier that day, the fact that she could die even easier, and that her lover had chosen not to join, as well – leaving her alone and lonely, confronting her own mortality.

Batman, as always, had the best poker face. Nobody except the Manhunter could tell what was going on inside his head, and the Ma'al was too polite to even think about looking. He had a laptop open, and was busy ensuring the uplink to the computer in the so-called Hall of Justice was secure and properly encrypted. He then turned to face Superman, and when he caught the Kryptonian's eye, nodded.

Standing, Superman placed his hands on the table, and took a deep breath. "So... what do we know about what just happened?"

Batman spoke. "At 0943 this morning, the communications staff of the League received word that unidentified metahumans were attacking civilians and structures in downtown Houston, Texas. Word was passed to the members of the League, who arrived shortly thereafter. Flash had passed by Star City to pick up Canary, while Green Lantern passed by Gotham to pick me up. Though technically the Flash and Canary arrived first, the time difference between arrivals was negligible. By 0946, all League members were present on the scene.

"The attacking metahumans were revealed to not be metahumans, but rather escapees from Warworld, armed with alien technology and their own innate abilities. They appeared to be attacking simply for the fun of it, killing civilians for 'points', and laughing when collateral damage caused even more chaos.

"At 0947, the League engaged the attackers. For the purposes of this report, they will be referred to as subjects Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, Zeta, Eta, and Theta. All subjects were met individually with League members, except for subject Gamma, who engaged Green Lantern along with subject Theta.

"The ability of most League members to fly was apparently negated by subject Delta, through unknown means, but Green Lantern's ability to fly remained. He and subjects Gamma and Theta began a mid-air dogfight. Lantern's ability in this fight was disadvantaged by his proper concern for property damage and the people present in the buildings the fight took place around

"At 0953, an unknown metahuman emerged from the fleeing crowds, and promptly demonstrated superhuman strength by grabbing and restraining subject Eta, who previously proved strong enough to hurl a loaded bus at his chosen opponent, Martian Manhunter."

The Batman clicked the mouse button, and an image appeared in the monitor screen embedded in the center of the table. A slightly blurry photograph appeared there, of a man in a tight, obviously home-made costume, and wearing a motorcycle helmet. The costume appeared to be a yellow full-body so-called morphsuit, with red designs hand-painted on it, including a rather prominent Scorpio symbol on the chest.

He continued. "Subject Eta attempted to escape the grasp of the unknown metahuman, hereafter referred to as Ally Alpha. This allowed the Manhunter to perform a knockout blow by telepathic means, as the alien's attention and concentrated drifted. With subject Eta rendered insensate, the two began to assist other League members.

"Whatever means subject Delta used to inhibit flight also appeared to somewhat inhibit the powers of Superman. Their fight was still ongoing, but eventually Superman gained the upper hand. At some point, the device subject Delta used was damaged or destroyed, restoring aerial superiority to the League.

"At this point, Ally Alpha saw the barely conscious Subject Eta aiming some sort of weapon at a crowd of civilians that chose not to run. Moving with the speed of an athletic normal human, he jumped in the path of the weapon, and was struck by what appeared to be a bolt of collated plasma. The resulting blast almost totally disintegrated Ally Alpha. Moments later, Green lantern managed to raise a force shield around the crowd, and the Flash disassembled the weapon."

Silence reigned for a few moments. Finally, the Flash spoke. "So, basically, some guy with powers from who knows where comes in, helps us out and probably helped save hundreds of lives, then sacrifices himself to save even more lives."

Batman nodded. "Precisely. And we have no idea who he was."

XXXX

The site of the battle was cold, but downtown Houston was otherwise back to normal. It was two in the morning, and a shadow knelt over a spot with emergency tape surrounding it. "There must be something," muttered the shape.

A gloved hand reached for a utility belt, and pulled out some form of sensor. Waving it over a darkened spot of pavement. The Batman reached down, and picked up a few fragments of what used to be a motorcycle helmet, then stood. He stared at the blackened spot for just a few more moments, then walked off to a nearby alley, and was gone.

XXXX

The Batcave was secret, but a few people knew not only that it actually existed, but also its location. Among those few were Superman, Wonder Woman, and the Martian Manhunter, though they rarely went there out of respect for Batman's privacy. Now, however, the Manhunter stood beside the Batman, watching the gathered footage of the battle carefully.

"There, see? At that point, his balance is slightly off. He's very likely wearing lifts of some sort in his shoes, to help conceal his identity."

"Could it not be vanity?" asked the Manhunter.

"Unlikely," grunted Batman. "He could have worn any number of things on his face to conceal his identity, and vanity would call for something closer to what Green Lantern wears. Instead, he concealed his entire head inside that motorcycle helmet. He proved he did not need it for physical armor during the fight."

John Jonzz nodded. "So he was approximately five foot nine, then? Which would put his weight at...?"

"Approximately one hundred and seventy pounds, assuming his metahumanity did not affect his density. He also demonstrated no metahuman abilities besides augmented strength and durability."

A click of a mouse, and close-up images of the helmet fragments appeared onscreen. "I would, however, go so far as to say his superhuman durability did not extend to the type of energy used for this weapon. The helmet he wore was a standard, store-bought type, with the outer layers consisting of a plastic coated polycarbonate shell, over layers of polypropylene foam. The helmet's melting point should be well below the temperature needed to destroy all DNA evidence as thoroughly as happened, unless our unknown hero was actually more susceptible to heat than the average human being."

"What are the odds that he knew this?" asked John.

"Unknown. He might simply have thought that he sunburned easily, or disliked hot days. On the other hand, he may have been aware of this vulnerability, but took action anyway. I'll see you back at the Hall in a few weeks, I have people to interview."

XXXX

A photograph flashed up on the main screen in the Justice League's meeting room. It showed a happy young man of average build, holding up a rather large fish. "Michael Tanaka. Born November the seventh, in the year nineteen eighty four, age twenty-one."

Canary blinked. "Rather young," she muttered.

"Indeed." The Batman clicked the remote in his hand, and the picture changed to a newspaper clipping. "In 2002, July, he was one of six college students trapped in the cave-in at Mastodon Caves in New Mexico. At least one student reportedly attributed their survival to Tanaka literally catching a boulder that would have landed on the student's head during the cave-in, and then passing out from the exertion. This report was attributed to hysterical strength, as Tanaka was an Anthropology major with no known athletic pursuits beyond cycling."

Flash made a noise in the back of his throat. "So you think the cave-in sparked his metagene?"

"Precisely. I was able to build a very rough psychological profile of our mysterious Ally Alpha, and matched it to his approximate height and weight. I narrowed it down to those who had been declared missing since the day of the battle, and had a birthday between October 23 and November 21, due to the assumption of a 'Scorpio' or similar heroic identity. Of those subjects, Tanaka best fit, and had an incident which could have sparked a metagene awakening."

Green Lantern sighed. "So your not positive Tanaka was our 'Ally Alpha', then?"

"I'm approximately 98% certain he was. The only other possible candidates did not have an event that could have awakened a metagene, or any other method of superhuman awakening." With another click, the screen went dark, and the lights turned up slightly. "I took the liberty of inviting Mr Tanaka's parents and sister here. They accepted, and are waiting for us in the back."

XXXX

The name of 'Scorpio - Michael Tanaka' slowly cooled on the surface of the wall. Superman then turned to Shou and Jennifer Tanaka. "Sir, Ma'am, we'd like to take this moment to thank you for coming. What your son did was brave, and showed a level of caring about his fellow man that I wish was more common."

Jennifer simply nodded, while her husband held her close. "Superman, we would like to thank you and your comrades. These past several weeks have been painful, not knowing, and now we know." A young girl stepped up beside him, and Shou reached out, and pulled her close as well. "I just wish... I just wish he had not had to do what he did."

Wonder Woman stepped up, and bowed. "We all do, Mr Tanaka. We all do."


End file.
